


Free in the Moment

by Nvr_Sk_to_Tll



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nvr_Sk_to_Tll/pseuds/Nvr_Sk_to_Tll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quiet night at One-Eyed Jack's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free in the Moment

It was a slow night, a quiet night, at One-Eyed Jack's. Not many men, and those few who had passed through were apparently interested more in gambling than in girls. Not that anyone was worried or anything; these nights happened on occasion.

Laura lay back on the bed in her room, eyes shut, and lost herself in the texture of the sheets. It was something she did from time to time, whether alone or not, in an effort to get away from the world temporarily.

She did not open her eyes when she heard the door open. Nor did she open them when someone parted the curtains around the bed and crawled in beside her.

"Hey there," a soft, familiar voice whispered, and Laura smiled.

"You lonely tonight?" she whispered back, and a moment later Ronette was close against her, head resting on Laura's shoulder, arms around Laura's waist.

"I miss you. Been a while since it was just us."

"What about last week?"

Ronette made a small disdainful sound.

"I mean just us without some guy watching."

Laura still did not open her eyes when she felt Ronette move, but she returned the soft kiss that was soon pressed to her lips. When that was done, when they parted, Laura finally looked up at the other girl.

"You're cold," Ronette said, and she looked really concerned.

"I'll bet you can warm me up."

That was all the inducement Ronette needed to shift her position further, to be over Laura, touching and kissing. Her lips were soft, full, trailing lingering kisses over Laura's body. Meanwhile her hands were quick when they needed to be, slow when the need changed. They were mostly smooth hands, though they had rough patches here and there. Rough patches in all the right places, as far as Laura was concerned.

They were good hands, and the person behind them certainly knew how to use them. Not like Donna, whose hands were so soft and their touch so gentle that sometimes Laura thought she had imagined the whole thing.  
Not like Bobby either, with his football player hands. He was overwhelmingly greedy, needy, consuming; he nursed at Laura's breasts like a starving infant and still sometimes cried when all was said and done.  
And least of all like James, whose hands were so overall rough that they could probably pass for a different level of smooth. Roughsmooth, that was what James' hands were like. And he was careful, kind, sweet, but sometimes had a clumsiness to him in the midst of sex.

Yes, in her life, Laura had felt many bodies against her own, many hands on her breasts and belly and crotch and limbs; some trying to bring her pleasure, some trying to hurt her, some simply bracing their owner until that person's own climax had been reached, and Laura's feelings be damned.  
But no other hands were quite like Ronette's. Even when both Ronette and Laura were completely out of their minds from booze or cocaine, Ronette was sweet, skilled, consuming, giving.

Now Ronette had gone down, her head between Laura's thighs, her lips and tongue and fingers performing what felt like miracles. It was a strange moment, always confusing for Laura. With most other people, Laura could gauge what her own reactions should be: stillness and silence, or soft whimpering and a little bucking of the hips, or full-on screaming and thrashing around. But with Ronette, no particular behavior seemed appropriate. Even after all the times Ronette had said "Just let go," all the gentle whispers of "Come for me," Laura was still unsure how to just feel good. She pretended that her sex life (outside of those nights at home when BOB crept through her window,) was about liberating herself. Of course she knew the truth; it was, in a twisted way, about proving that she was "good," that she was more than just BOB's victims. If she could control when and where the sex happened, could fight and control the natural reactions of her own body, then she was "right" and she wasn't just some helpless, lost kid.

Tonight, though, something was even more different. It was as if something, some insistent voice in Laura's mind, was commanding her to relax, to relinquish all the control she had spent years building up. She could feel the sweet tension building, the pressure that she never completely released. It built and built and everything felt so good that it almost hurt, and Laura closed her eyes once more, her fingers twisting in Ronette's hair. And then there was an edge, a moment when Laura knew that she had to recover herself or every bit of restraint would be gone. Every bad thing, every secret, might come spilling out in that moment of pleasure.

And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Laura did not care. Let it all be out there, the darkness and the pain and the secrets. She felt like she could let go of everything, could stop separating the areas of her life. She could finally tell everyone the truth and cleanse herself in a way.

In the last instant before she stepped over the edge, Laura saw sparks behind her eyelids. The tiny, brilliant lights coalesced into one huge wash of illumination. It was like standing in the end of a tunnel, watching a train head straight for you, and not really caring that in a moment, you would be destroyed. The sensation made Laura want to laugh, but it seemed like every muscle in her body had gone completely limp and tensed up somehow at the same moment. She only managed a few short gasps and a soft moan before everything was overtaken by the sweetness.

For an eternal moment, there was no darkness, no BOB, no school or home or Donna or being Mom and Dad's good girl, no Bobby or Leo or Jacques. There was no need to drink or eat, no need for the cocaine or anything else to make it all just go away a little. There was no sweet James, no Ben Horne singing to her in his office and sweating and grunting on top of her in other places.

There was nothing but herself and Ronette and this moment of connection and pleasure. And then Ronette was beside her again, was kissing her. She could taste herself on the other girl's lips and tongue, and it was beautiful and horrible and Laura felt tears coming and she tried to stop them, but they spilled anyway, followed by deep, choking sobs. Ronette was holding her then, stroking her hair and whispering to her.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay. I gotcha. Shh. Okay, baby. Okay."

But there was no way it was, or would ever be, okay. The moment had happened, it had shattered something, and now it would never happen again. It could never happen again. It was too sweet, too freeing. It could never happen again and, for now, it was all Laura ever wanted to know.

"Don't leave me," Laura whispered.

"I'm not. I'm right here."

"Promise? Even if I fall asleep?"

Laura clung more tightly and felt Ronette nod. She wished she could say that she loved Ronette. She did, in a way. They had things in common, they could relate to each other. Ronette was really a good friend sometimes. Still, Laura had a hard time saying "I love you" to anyone. She always felt like that might be the worst thing she could say.

Maybe she could not tell Ronette about her feelings, but she could show her. They made love again, Laura taking charge, trying to give Ronette every bit of pleasure that she could. And then there was a man, and Ronette slipped out of Laura's room through the second door and Laura let the man use her body until he was exhausted and snoring beside her. It was no big deal.


End file.
